


I Wear My Pain Like Stilettos

by Katybug1992



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Women in the NHL, female claude giroux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:40:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25766857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katybug1992/pseuds/Katybug1992
Summary: Claude-Marie Giroux wore her pain like stilettos, as bad as it may hurt, no one would ever know. She kept walking with her head up, put on a show and fronting like nothing is wrong. She talked the talk like she's a tough girl, 'cause there wasn’t room for weakness in a rough world that kept saying she was never enough. When she got burned, she learned to be strong. Claude wore her pain like stilettos.But Sid… he saw right through her. And she found herself being okay with that.
Relationships: Claude Giroux & Sean Couturier, Sidney Crosby/Claude Giroux
Comments: 5
Kudos: 75





	I Wear My Pain Like Stilettos

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the song Stilettos by Kelsea Ballerini

1.

It’s not the first time Claude-Marie has been dumped. It’s also not the first time that the guy tried to dance around the reason. But Claude wasn’t dumb. She may not be very active on social media but she checked her accounts for her family and friends and she had seen Robert’s “co-worker”. She had been to a couple of the firm’s parties in the year they had been together. She had met Stacy in person, had seen how Robert looked at Stacey, had seen how Stacy acted like Robert wasn’t in a relationship - even when Claude-Marie was standing right there.

So it’s not a surprise when the words “It’s not you, it’s me” came out of Robert’s mouth in the middle of their dinner at nice restaurant in Philly the day after Claude got back from a ten game road trip, followed by the words “works been so busy and I need someone who has time for me” and “it’s not your fault that you can’t be around enough” and “the sex is great, and you’re very gifted at phone sex, but it’s not enough” and “I’m going to be running for political office in the next few years and I want to be married with a kid or two by then and you’re just not politician wife material”.

She was too “brash” and “outspoken”, didn’t have the right “comportment”, too many clips of her using “improper or inappropriate language”. She would be a “liability in a campaign”. She also didn’t have “the look”. She didn’t put in enough time to make herself “look pretty when she knew she was going to be on camera”. She didn’t “care how she looked giving postgame interviews”. She “didn’t smile enough”.

And she had to sit there and listen to him list off everything that was wrong with her, why she didn’t fit into his future - all while he kept insisting that it wasn’t her fault she was getting dumped. And she couldn’t do anything. She couldn’t react the way she wanted to, she couldn’t storm out of the restaurant, she couldn’t yell at him, she couldn’t cry or scream or call him all the things she was thinking. Because they were in one of the nicest restaurants in Philly and she was the fucking captain of the Philadelphia fucking Flyers and if she did any of the things she wanted to, it would front page news.

So she kept it together as he asked for the check even when she wasn’t even halfway done with her food, not that she had an appetite anymore. She grabbed her wine glass and downed it.

Claude shoved his hand off of her as they left and ignored him as she started walking down the street, she needed a drink.

“Claude-Marie, come on. Let’s be mature about this. Let me take you home.” he grabbed her arm after handing his slip to the valet.

“Get your hand off me,” Claude pulled out of his grip, “I can get myself home just fine.”

“You shouldn’t be walking around the street dressed like that. People will assume -”

“I’m the fucking Captain of the Philadelphia fucking Flyers,” she hissed back at him, narrowing her eyes, “No one will assume I’m some sort of hooker. And there is nothing wrong with what I’m wearing. And if anyone does try anything, I’m tougher than any man in Philly.”

She shoved herself away from him and headed in the direction she had been going. There was a hotel near the restaurant that had a nice bar and she could pick up traveling business man to fuck so she didn’t have to think about all the flaws that had been painfully laid before her.

“Fuck,” she muttered to herself, spotting a group of Penguins lounging around the area. She hadn’t even considered that this was the hotel they would be staying at.

She took a deep breath and shook it off, heading to the bar, setting her coat on the back of the stool at the far end and setting her clutch down next to her and ordered a whiskey.

She gave the bartender a small smile in thanks as he set the glass down in front of her and threw it back, ordering a refill.

“Giroux,” Crosby greeted, apparently having been elected the person to come over and see why she was there - judging by the curious looks on the group of Pens blatantly staring at her.

“Crosby,” she replied, accepting her new whiskey, “didn’t know you guys were staying here, but it was the closest bar to where I was.”

“You okay?”

“I just got dumped, Crosby, how do you think I am?” she glared at him, muttering to herself, “Just another person I’m not fucking good enough for.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” she sighed, “I’m just gonna get drunk, flirt with that man over there, and let him take me to his room and have his way with me so I don’t have to think about the blonde my ex will be taking out to dinner tomorrow night because SHE’S politician wife material.”

Crosby looked at the man Claude had gestured to and cringed, “He’s, like, twice your age.”

“And probably married.” Claude replied, “But if Richard thinks I’m loose and easy and trashy, then I might as well act like it.”

She moved to stand up but Crosby placed a hand on top hers, “Come on. You can join us. Don’t… you’re better than that. I didn’t mean it like - You’re worth more than sleeping with a married, old guy because you’re feeling bad about yourself.”

“No offense, Cros, but that sounds like a nightmare. I’d really rather hit rock bottom for the night before I need to put myself back together for my team and the Media.”

With that said, she slipped off her stool, throwing her coat over an arm, grabbing her clutch and refilled glass and made her way over to the gentleman who had been eyeing her from the minute she entered the hotel bar, well aware of Crosby’s eyes following her.

Well, he could go screw himself. No one was as disappointed in her as she was.

At least she could beat him in one area.

2.

Claude snuck out of the guy’s hotel room after he passed out and barely got through her shower before she collapsed on her bed, setting her alarm for a couple hours earlier than usual because she needed to look put together for the pre-practice scrum, and not like she had just been dumped the night before and had sunk to new lows. 

Sure, it hadn’t been her first time getting drunk and hooking up with a less than stellar candidate. But half of the Penguins roaster - including Sidney fucking Crosby - saw her doing it. They saw her as she slipped into the seat across from him. They saw her let him buy her a couple more drinks. They saw her flirt with him. And they saw her leave with him.

At least she has an above average alcohol tolerance and didn’t wake up hungover.

She allotted herself a couple minutes of self-loathing but, eventually, Claude needed to get herself together. She had Media, practice, probably more Media, and then a game against the Penguins bookended by even more Media because she’s the fucking Captain of the Philadelphia fucking Flyers. One glance at her phone verified that the break-up was somehow already a story. She groaned and pulled herself out of her bed and headed to her closet.

She usually didn’t put the effort in when she went to the rink. Sure, she dressed up on game day, but her hair and make-up never got done because it was useless. It was just going to get messed up. But today she was putting extra care, styling her hair like she was going to be doing a photoshoot, adding light - but noticeable - make-up and making sure to throw her make-up bag into her gear bag so she could reapply after her shower post-practice.

It was starting to get warmer, so she could get away with wearing the floral spaghetti-strap dress she had picked out - simple, nude-tones with white and yellow daisies scattered around it, stuffing a sports bra into her gear bag as well as a pair of sneakers, sock, leggings, and a t-shirt in case they were doing team workout after skate - and she planned to get a solid hour or so on the bike anyway. 

Finally, she slipped on a pair of nude-tone wedge heels and grabbed her stuff.

She held her head high as she walked into the building. Past the cameras. Past the journalist. Past the Flyers PR reps who were clearly waiting for her so they could discuss the fall out of the Power Couple of Philly breaking up. She held her head high until she entered the dressing room.

In there she was safe to show her feelings, for now. Sean came in and looked at her for a minute before beelining over to her and giving her the biggest hug he could muster, managing to completely surround her and she was so grateful for it at the moment. He really was her favorite.

“Let me know if you’re not good, okay?” he whispered as more of their teammates trickled in, “Like, I know what you’re doing, but let me know if you can’t keep it up. I’ll do press, or I’ll stand with you while you do press, or I’ll distract everyone, or I’ll hire a hitman. Anything, G.”

“Thanks, Sean,” Claude smiled, “but I’ll be okay. I’m a big girl.”

Sean gave her a look but headed back to his stall and let Claude walk back out of the locker room alone to meet with the PR reps - who had cancelled the pre-practice scrum but agreed to add time to the post-practice scrum.

Apparently, her break-up required a meeting with not just PR but Coach. Because Richard Haddenfield was a prominent, well-liked figure in Philly and they wanted to make sure she wasn’t going to slander or trash his name. They also remind her that two can air dirty laundry and reminded her to keep that in mind when she was asked about it.

Coach tells her, under his breath and out of earshot of the reps, that the front office is over-reacting and that he knows she knows where the line is. And Claude smiles at that, because it’s not treating her with kid gloves, it’s not condescending, it’s an acknowledgement that she isn’t new to this and that she can be trusted to know how to behave.

Claude gets through practice. She then dawdles as long as she can after her shower, braiding her damp hair - back in her dress and heels. The trainers nixed her bike plans - mentioning something about her knee - but she thinks PR was involved because they were worried she’d use it as an excuse to get out of the post-practice scrum. Sean perched himself on the sink counter as she started on her make-up.

“You don’t have stay, Sean,” she muttered as she started applying her foundation.

“I don’t have to, no,” Sean nodded, “but I do if I want to get lunch with my Captain.”

“We’re getting lunch?”

“Yup. I was thinking something not in the diet plan.”

“Sean, we play tonight.”

“Fine, Panera. And then after the game, we can go to yours, you can make grilled cheeses and we can get drunk so you can avoid talking about it and so I can keep you from thinking about it.” Sean shrugged, “And then tomorrow we can go over to Danny’s and the boys can distract you from whatever it is you don’t want to tell anyone about.”

“Fine.” Claude replied, “I may as well give you a ride to the rink then.”

Sean grinned and Claude shoved him as she carefully, but quickly, redid her make-up.

He then followed her to where the Press was waiting, staying out of way and watching her as she handled all the questions with grace and ease. Both of them had settled into the false sense of security.

“You recently split with your boyfriend,” one of the journalists started, Claude recognized her as a gossip columnist/society page star writer, “I have sources that say that he didn’t think you would be marriage material - everyone knows Richard Haddenfield has political ambitions. Is there any truth to that?”

“I’m not exactly at a point in my life where I want to think about marriage,” Claude replied carefully, “and he has certain life goals he wants to accomplish. Our timelines for that milestone didn’t match up.”

“What about the allegations that you didn’t have the… attributes of a woman linked to a man like Haddenfield should have?” she pressed.

“I am who I am.” Claude replied, “I’ve never changed that for anyone and I never will.”

“But little girls look up to you.”

“That’s even more of a reason not to change who I am based on what a man thinks. I have little girls looking up to me because I’m the first - and only - female Captain in the NHL. I have little girls looking up to me because they see me play and they see me lead. And society tells girls they shouldn’t be leaders. Those little girls look at me and see a girl who - just like them - was called bossy, was told to be less than because I was making the boys feel bad by being better than them, was told that I needed to fit myself into a box labeled ‘girl’ and stay there. My job as a Captain isn’t just to be a leader on the team and in the locker room. It’s to be a leader in my community and in the League. And I refuse to let myself be less anything just because a man wants me to be. What kind of message would that send to those little girls?”

When no responded, Claude thanked them and headed back over to Sean, head still held high and grabbed her bag, swinging it over her shoulder.

Games against Pittsburgh were always...interesting. And Claude’s feeling a little bit more jittery than she would like to admit.

“Hey,” Sean whispered as she turned off the car and made no move to leave, “You okay?”

“You know that thing we’ve been distracting me from all day?” she asked, looking over at him.

“Yeah?”

“After Richard dumped me, I went to the closest hotel bar. The Penguins happened to be staying there.”

“G, you didn’t hook up with a Penguin, did you?” Sean had an expression of vague horror on his face, “Tell me you didn’t sink lower enough to let Hornqvist touch you. You could do so much better than him.”

“No, I did not hook up with a Penguin. I didn’t hate myself that much,” she shot him a look that told him she thought he was the biggest idiot she knew.

“So what happened?” Sean replied, “Do I need to hit someone tonight?”

“They just saw me...pick up an old married guy in town for business,” she replied, not looking over at him, “Crosby came over to talk to me. Then told me I was ‘better than that’ when I got up to join the guy. Half of those guys saw me at one of my lowest points. I just… I can’t shake the feeling that they’re use it against me. That I should have just found another bar or gone home and… The stupid, reckless part of my brain just wanted to prove that men wanted me. I wanted to just be enough for someone. And if that someone was a sleazy fifty-something year old man whose performance should have earned me an Oscar in the Faking It category, at least it somebody.”

And maybe Sean would look into hiring a hitman. Or ask Danny to look into it. Because no one had any right to make Claude-Marie Giroux look the way she did right now. No one had any right to make her look unsure, insecure, terrified, heartbroken, disgusted at herself. And Sean clenched his fist before leaning across the console and hugging her tightly and vowing silently to tell the guys to board the shit out of any Penguin that so much as looked at her funny.

She pulled herself away after a minute, sniffed, then moved to get out of the car. She smoothed out her dress - a nice navy color that complimented her skin tone and hair color - and he followed her, her stilettos clicking against the concrete of the parking garage. And there was a lot about Claude Marie Giroux that impressed Sean, but the fact that she somehow managed to walk and stay upright while wearing those dagger shoes was close to the top of the list, right under her hockey and right above the way she managed to make all the Brieres do what she told them to with just one look - Sean sometimes lumped himself into that category because he did live with Danny and the boys for two years and he had been a victim of that look plenty of times.

Sean had showed up at her place after his nap and sat on her bed as he stood at the vanity to style her hair and apply a full face of make-up, even if she would be washing it off after the pre-game scrum. And he knew what she was doing. It was the same thing she did every time another article came out comparing her to Crosby and Ovechkin, that suggested maybe giving the C to someone else, that said she didn’t act the way a Captain should - like G losing her temper during games was worse than when the men in the League did (people still laugh at compilation videos of players breaking their sticks out of frustration).

So, Sean was used to this act. He had seen her apply it in person several times - not even Jake or Wayne were witnesses to that. And he knew to walk a couple steps behind her when they got to where the media would be gathered. Not because of anything she said, but because she was making a point and anyone seen walking next to her would project an image of her needing back-up, needing protecting.

And Claude-Marie Giroux didn’t need protecting from anything. 

She was standing at center ice, watching the shooting drill going on and taking centering breaths when Crosby came to a stop next to her.

“You okay, Giroux?” he asked, making sure to not appear like he was actually talking to her.

“I’m always okay, Crosby,” she replied, flicking her eyes over to him briefly.

“You didn’t look okay last night.” 

And he was actively looking at her now. So she turned to face him as well. Taking a deep breath she responded, “I’m fine, Crosby. You saw a moment of weakness that you never should have seen. So, please, forget about it.”

“It’s okay to not be okay.”

“You would say that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means it’s okay for YOU to not be okay. I, on the other hand, have to be okay twenty-four/seven. Because if I ever show I’m not okay, I get to see another story about how I shouldn’t wear the C. So, you can take your platitudes and go join your team. I’m fine.”

With that, she pushed off and joined in the drill, stealing the puck from Jake.

They then proceeded to shut out the Penguins AND she got herself a hatty. She made eye contact with Crosby as he was stepping off the ice and she gave him a confused look when he gave her that stupid crooked smiled before he headed off.

She went through her usually post-game process, threw her wet hair into a slightly nicer - more complicated - braid, and then reapplied her make-up - less than what she had done before the game but she didn’t have an hour to reapply - before getting back into her dress and dagger heels to go press.

And when she was done with that, pushing through like the professional she was - even as reporters asked several prying comments - she waited until they were out of sight before heading down toward the visitors’ locker room.

Letang noticed her as he exited and called in, “Sid, some pretty lady is here to see you.”

“You’re not nearly as funny as you think you are,” Claude replied as he grinned at her.

“I’ll live, chere.” Letang grinned, leaning against the wall next to her, “You know, he was worried about you last night.”

“He didn’t need to be,” she replied, “I’m a big girl, I can make my own mistakes.”

“G -”

“What Tanger -?” Sid exited the locker room and stopped short at the sight of her, “Giroux.”

“Crosby.” she replied, subconsciously standing up straighter, eyes following Tanger as he headed back into the locker room. She was silent for a moment before saying, “I didn’t appreciate you bringing up last night during warm-ups. But I wanted to extend my thanks to you and your teammates for not mentioning it during the game. I wasn’t in a good headspace and I hated myself for letting you see me like that.”

“I wouldn’t have let anyone use that against you.” Crosby looked a little offended that she was thanking him, “It would’ve crossed your line.”

“You know what my line is?” she raised an eyebrow.

“I watch a lot of tape on you, Giroux,” Crosby gave her that same crooked smile, “I’ve seen when guys have crossed your line… I’ve crossed your line a couple times. And, for that, I apologize.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” she replied, shaking her head, “Things get heated. It’s hockey. Also, I may have been purposefully trying to get under your skin those first couple years.”

“But you’re okay now?”

“I already told you, Cros, I’m always okay,” she gave him a small smile but pressed a kiss to his cheek, “but you’re cute for worrying about me.”

With that, she turned and walked away. After all, she had plans to get drunk with Sean that night.

3.

So, pictures had been taken of Claude and Sid talking at Center Ice. And others taken during their talk after the game, including her kissing his cheek and then one of him watching her walk away with a look on his face that Claude REALLY didn’t want to think about.

But since then, they had been talked about repeatedly - a side story always mentioned, the Romeo and Juliet of the NHL. And it wasn’t terrible, just annoying.

She made her “He caught me at a bad moment the previous day, I was thanking him for not using it against me” comment and then “I already answered that question” -ed her way through every question since then.

Then she was told by the front office that she was going to be attending the benefit being hosted by Richard and it wouldn’t be a bad idea for her to have a date. Then her agent contacted her. Apparently, Crosby’s agent had notified him that Sid had gotten an invite to it as well and it would be good press if they attended together.

“You don’t have to confirm a relationship - whether or not it’s there - but it’s a story that the Media enjoys and that the public enjoys because they like to see a human side of the two of you.”

“He’s already made the travel plans, hasn’t he?” she asked, cradling her coffee.

“He’ll be staying a hotel. He’ll pick you up at 7. It’s -”

“Black-Tie. I know,” she took a sip of the coffee, “I know what kind of Benefits Richard’s firm throws.”

“Be civil, with both of them. No doubt Richard’s new girlfriend will be on his arm and you’ll need to interact with her. And remember -”

“Don’t let them see me weak or hurt, I know.”

So the weeks rolled by and eventually she was getting ready for the Event. What she hadn’t expected was for Danny and the boys to be there. The boys didn’t even have to be there - they were old enough now to not be spending their Friday nights hanging out with their dad, who was spending his Friday worrying about her - like he had when she was still young and impressionable.

It did help her nerves, though. Standing at her vanity, working on her hair and chatting with the boys about school, hockey, their weekend plans.

“Is this what you’re wearing?” Cameron asked, holding up the hanger with the black dress she purchased the other day hanging on it.

“It looks short.” Carson’s nose scrunched up as it often did when he actually had to be confronted with the fact that his kind-a-sort-a step-mom is, in fact, an adult female. The look of horror on his face when he found out that one of his friends had a crush on her was captured in a photo that Caelan sent to her and then remained Carson’s photo ID when he called.

“It’s called a little black dress for a reason.” Claude replied, finally finishing getting her hair to look the way it did in the picture on her phone.

“I don’t get it,” Cameron set the hanger down.

“It’s meant to make an ex pay for dumping you,” Danny replied, leaning against the doorframe, “Make them see you put together, looking your best, and not needing them anymore.”

“But why are you wasting it on Crosby?” Caelan asked, “You’re not, like, really dating him, right?”

“I’m not dating Crosby.” Claude replied, starting to work on applying her make-up, “But this is my first time seeing Richard since we broke up. And I want him to feel a little bit of regret. And if seeing me in that dress on Sidney Crosby’s arm causes it, then so be it.”

“You look that devastating in it?” Danny asked, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Princess Di levels of devastating,” she smirked at Danny in the mirror.

“And you’re wasting that on Crosby?” Danny replied, grin tugging at his lips.

“Richard started dating his assistant whose name the press can never remember the day after he broke up with me. If everyone wants to think that I moved on with Sidney fucking Crosby then that means I win.”

“Or, you know, you could actually move on with Sidney fucking Crosby,” Danny replied, ignoring the offended sounds coming from his sons, “Guy has a crush on you.”

“Daniel Briere,” she chided playfully, “are you encouraging me to jump into bed with Sidney Crosby?”

She ignored Carson’s gagging and bit her lip from laughing at the horrified looks on Cameron and Caelan’s faces.

“I’m saying give the man a legitimate chance.” Danny rolled his eyes, directing his sons to leave the room, “Letang says Crosby’s smitten with you. Said he was all sulky when you chose an old guy over him.”

“Look, if I was gonna sleep with Crosby, it wouldn’t be because I wanted a reason to prove that I was right in feeling like I sucked, okay?” Claude turned back to her reflection, “If I were to... do anything with Sid, it would mean something. To me.”

“Mean something to him, too.” Danny met her eyes in the mirror, “G, you’ve always put what you want last. Just...put yourself first for once. If you think taking a shot at something with Crosby would be worth it, would make you happy, then do it. Because you deserve to be happy. And Richard? He didn’t make you happy. You are so much better than that guy ever deserved.”

“Danny -”

“I’m not saying fuck Crosby tonight.” Danny held his hands up, “But I am saying, maybe, test the waters.”

“I don’t need a guy to make me look like I don’t care.”

“But your pride needs support. You’re seeing Richard and Cindy -”

“Her name is Stacy.”

“ - for the first time tonight. The press will be taking all kinds of pictures because not only are you the Captain of the Philadelphia Flyers, but because you’re at that Event with Sidney Crosby as your arm candy.”

“You sure it’s not the other way around?”

“G, he got an invite because he’s been linked to you. He’s your arm candy.”

Claude rolled her eyes and kicked him out so she could finish getting dressed. 

She took her time, Sid wasn’t supposed to be there for another ten minutes. Enough time that she could kick Danny and the boys out. 

But that was the doorbell that rang as she was putting one stiletto on and that was the sound of all four Briere men yelling that they would get it. And of course Sid was the kind of guy to be early.

“Get away from the door,” she yelled, walking out of her room and getting halfway down the stairs before Caelan opened her door.

And she froze on the stairs at the sight of him, standing there in his suit and looking at her in awe, like she was WORTH something.

“Wow,” Sid breathed out, taking in the sight of her.

The dress came down to her knees but clung tightly to her figure, with crystals embedded along the waist. It also had a deeper neckline than what she might normally wear. It wasn’t anything special but the way he looked at her made her feel like it was.

“You look devastating,” Danny gave her a shit eating grin, “Beyond Princess Di levels.”

“Shut up and get out of my house,” she narrowed her eyes at him, “I’m sure Caelan and Carson have college related parties they’d like to go to and I know Cam has a game tomorrow morning.”

She made her way the rest of the way down the stairs and grabbed the clutch that was on the table between the wall and the stairs.

“Don’t those things hurt your feet?” Cameron gestures to the daggers on her feet. He had seen her in the aftermath of wearing them for too long.

“You get used to hiding the pain after a while,” she replied, ruffling his hair and kissing his cheek, “I’m gonna try to make it to your game tomorrow, okay? But if don’t -”

“You’re cheering for me, I know,” Cameron rolled his eyes but hugged her, laughing as she dropped another kiss to the top of his head as he pulled back.

“You better take care of her tonight, Crosby,” Carson glared at him.

“And use protection!” Caelan cackles - the cackling gets louder when four voices yell his name all with varying degrees of scandalized, “What!? Dad, come on. You’re not ready for mini-G’s to be running around!”

“Go, Caelan,” Claude replied, mean smile slipping onto her face, “Or I’ll tell your dad about you know what.”

“But you promised you wouldn’t.”

“Then you better go.”

“Fine.”

“Have fun tonight,” Claude called after Caelan and Carson as they headed to Caelan’s car, “drink responsibly and take an Uber home!”

“Cloooo,” they whine in unison, even if they’re fighting smiles.

“Come on, Cam,” Danny clapped a hand on Cameron’s shoulder, “let’s go.”

Danny kissed her cheek and practically pushed Cameron out of the door before glaring at Sid and giving him a look that promised Sid a world of hurt should anything happen to Claude.

“So… we should probably head out now.” she bit her lip and let him lead her out to his car, climbing in after he opened her door for her.

They drove in relative silence, Claude messed with his radio stations and Sid pretended to be annoyed with her but learning that Claude-Marie Giroux had terrible Song ADD made him smile fondly - even more so settled on a country station and relaxed fully into her seat.

She didn’t know what to expect but she did know that she was surprised that she actually had fun. She and Sid sipped champagne, she mingled and dazzled while Sid watched her like she was the most impressive person he had ever seen, they walked around with her arm looped through his and she allowed herself to feel smug whenever Richard looked at them, they ate the food that was admittedly better than she had expected it to be, they posed for pictures, they danced - she let him hold her close as they swayed and she was mature enough to admit to herself that it felt nice and that they fit well together and she liked the way his arms felt around her. And she liked how she felt with his arms around her - like she was safe, like nothing could touch her, nothing could hurt her.

And maybe Danny had a point. Sid knew her - admittedly, he had seen her at her most annoying, and grating, and “unladylike” - and he was still looking at her like this. And he wasn’t awful to look at. And they seemed to get along off ice pretty well. And he clearly felt something for her - some type of affection. His gaze rarely left her throughout the night and that made her feel… it made her feel like she was good enough. Like she didn’t have to be anyone but herself for him. Like he saw right through her carefully constructed mask and liked what he found underneath. Like he preferred what he found underneath. And that’s what tipped the scale.

So when he pulled into her driveway and walked her back to her door, she smiled at him and invited him inside. And smiled when he eagerly followed her. There would be time later to have the talk that they desperately needed to have if they were going to try to make this work. But, for now, she would enjoy the way his lips felt against hers.

Claude-Marie Giroux wore her pain like stilettos, as bad as it may hurt, no one would ever know. She kept walking with her head up, put on a show and fronting like nothing is wrong. She talked the talk like she's a tough girl, 'cause there wasn’t room for weakness in a rough world that kept saying she was never enough. When she got burned, she learned to be strong. Claude wore her pain like stilettos.

But Sid… he saw right through her. And she found herself being okay with that.


End file.
